Drabble: Fault
by DerangedLychan
Summary: Alfred flies into a rage after the Nick Berg video is released, and Arthur is forced to deal with the aftermath.


**Drabble: **_**Fault**_

**Rating:** T

**Pairing:** USUK

**Warning: **Well, a bit of violence and a mention of a not alright video.

**Disclaimer:** Hetalia belongs to Himaruya, not me.

**A/N: **This is for the lovely Athesia, for guessing the importance Ivan's execution date. Good job, dearie, the other is on the way.

**~:: X ::~**

A chair shattered against the wall, followed by an angry swear. Then a lamp. A desk was simply smashed under the unrelenting force of a gloved fist.

The office was in ruins. Bookshelf toppled and partly crushed, holes straight through the wall into the rooms beyond. The chandelier was laying on the ground, having been ripped out of the ceiling. Books and papers were strewn about and the door knob was torn entirely off.

In the midst of the wreckage stood a young man, bloodied, gloved hands clenched tightly into dangerous fists. His broad chest heaved with each breath and his blue eyes flickered over the damaged caused, clouded in anger. Nostrils flared as he inhaled through his nose in short, sharp intakes.

The door swung inwards with a small creek, its hinges having been damaged when he'd torn the knob from it. He rounded on the intruder, eyes narrowing dangerously. Not many would dare approach him when he was in a rage like this. Even fewer were allies.

"Alfred..." In the door stood a much slighter male than he, with pale skin and calming green eyes. It was those forest green hues Alfred's gaze locked onto as the Brit surveyed the damage done. He 'tsk'd and shook his head slightly, starting forward. Alfred's eyes never left his as he made his way through the wreckage, skirting around the rubble of the bookshelf.

He stopped mere inches in front of him, reaching down to take his hand in his own two. He coaxed him into unclenching his fist, turning it over in his hand to look at the split knuckles. He frown upon catching a glimpse of bone. Green hues met savage blue and he sighed, cupping the taller male's cheek.

"Alfred, love, can you hear me?" he asked gently, coaxing a wild animal closer. The pad of his thumb traced the line of the American's cheekbone, a soothing gesture. A vice grip took hold of his hips, squeezing painfully, and the Brit gasp quietly, a grimace flickering across those features Alfred was so familiar with. Familiar? Yes, familiar. He knew the soft but not quite feminine jaw, the slender and delicate-looking nose. He knew the thin lips and the sharp tongue they contained. The awkwardly large eyebrows and the expressive pools of the deepest emerald below them. He knew Arthur.

"Love, come back to me." he was on his tiptoes, pressing gentle, brief kisses all over his face, one slender-fingered hand on either side of his clenched jaw. "Alfred, love, I'm here." he breathed against the corner of his mouth. He kissed his lips, and felt the other jolt out of his rage-induced state of mind with a physical jolt. He was pressed back by firm, but no longer hurting, hands and demanding lips, against the wall.

"God, Arthur, I'm sorry." he pulled away from the slightly winded Brit, pressing little apologetic kisses to his mouth, cheeks, nose, eyebrows, jaw, anything he could reach with the imploring lips. Slim fingers ran through his hair, soothing further as coarse gloves stroked newly-forming bruises on his hips.

"Hush, Alfred, it's alright." Arthur insisted. "I'm not in the slightest bit upset. Not about the room, nor my hips. You weren't in your right mind, you're not to blame." The American buried his face in the crook of Arthur's neck, letting out a shuddering breath.

"They put it on the fucking _internet_, Arthur, for the whole fucking _world_ to see." Arthur held him, stroking the golden locks and hushing him again.

"I know, Alfred, I know." He ignored the slight pinch of Alfred spectacles against his neck.

"God, Arthur, it's just- _Fuck_!" He punctuated his frustrated cry with another blow to the wall, his damaged hand easily punching through to the other side. Arthur didn't even flinch as it pass inches from his ear.

"Alfred, hush, you're going to get yourself worked up again." he gently guided his hand out of the damaged wall. "I know, Alfred, I know." a slow, soft monotone of comforts, little assurances, hushed and gentle touches. "There was nothing you could have done, Alfred."

"I _know_ that! Arthur, don't you think I _know_ that?" He was quieted with a kiss.

"Enough. You're not to blame." he nodded weakly, allowing the man to guide his head to lay on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around the thin frame, pressing himself close as possible. "It's not your fault." he assure.

And they stood like that for the better part of an hour, Alfred pressing Arthur against the wall and reveling in the gentle words and soothing touches, before Arthur managed to coax the distressed man to his room, laying him down, and allowing himself to simply be held. He curl against the American, tucking his head into the crook of his neck, stroking his hair.

"Get some rest, love." he murmured, kissing the crown of his head. A small nod, and Alfred held him until he managed to fall asleep, clinging to the older man as though if he didn't, he'd simply fall of the face of the earth.

Arthur stay awake for a bit after he had fallen asleep, petting his hair and humming softly, the tune interrupted on occasion by soothing words if he shift in his sleep. It was in the early hours of the morning that Arthur managed to follow Alfred into sleep, brows furrowed ever-so-slightly in worry.

**~::X::~**

**A/N: **Why can't I write Alfred without making him some sort of fucked-up psycho? I swear, In Three Months Time is the only thing I've written with him in it where he wasn't off his rocker, and even then, he had an over-developed sense of revenge. Like my country should.

No matter how small, everything I write has to have some sort of plot. No matter what. Unfortunately, I'm morbid, so a lot of my plots end up like this one.

A few years back of an American contract worker being decapitated with a knife. The video was released on the internet, and viewed by thousands. I decided that this was an appropriate reaction from Alfred to the video.

I've watched this video, and do _**not **_suggest you look it up. It's worse than it sounds.

Reviews would be lovely.

-DL


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